


LFM, at last boss

by Vampiric_Charms



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Just a little bit of Angst, M/M, video games are involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiric_Charms/pseuds/Vampiric_Charms
Summary: Yuuri thought he was the only gaming nerd in their relationship.  Yuuri was wrong.  (Although being wrong about this isn’t a bad thing, he quickly realizes, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest about this turn of events.)





	LFM, at last boss

**Author's Note:**

> Set after they've been together for...a long time. (They're married. Because we all know they get married.) You do not need to play video games to read this, I promise!
> 
> Thank you, Naamah, for letting me go on and on and on about my games. <3
> 
> Enjoy!

****“Hey Vitya, what’s all this?”

Victor hummed absently, glancing up from the stove and over his shoulder to where Yuuri was sitting on the couch looking through Victor’s old red iPod.  “Did you find something interesting in there?” he asked, setting down the wooden spoon he was using to stir their dinner - a spicy chicken stew - and coming up behind the couch to peer over Yuuri’s shoulder.

The iPod was Victor’s previous one from a few years before, the one immediately predating the bright pink one currently on the counter next to his wallet, and Yuuri had found it a few hours ago in his desk while on the hunt for a stapler.  He’d been quietly perusing it for a while as Victor cooked. He glanced up to meet Victor’s eyes, both curious and a little confused.

“Yeah,” he said, offering up the iPod for Victor to take.  “All these albums. Are they really…?”

Victor grasped the shiny red device and ran his finger up the screen to see what Yuuri had been staring at, his face brightening with a smile.  “Oh, these! I forgot I had so _many_!  I should move some over to my new iPod.”

“But…”  Yuuri frowned, taking it back and looking at the screen again.  “But these are soundtracks to World of Warcraft. Why do you have them?”

“I used to play!” Victor said easily.  There was still a cheerful grin on his face as he turned around, going back to the stove and picking up the spoon to check on the stew before anything could stick to the bottom of the pot.  As if these words didn’t make Yuuri’s entire world come to a standstill, hearing from Victor Nikiforov’s own mouth that Yuuri’s husband, Yuuri’s idol, Yuuri’s everything - _was a gamer_.

“I’m sorry - Vitya - what?”

Victor looked back again, his smile slipping as he saw what must have been the odd expression on Yuuri’s face.  “Oh,” he fumbled, “I mean, I have not had time to play in years, and I do not want to go back to it. I hardly had time as it was - ”

“No, wait,” Yuuri interrupted quickly, unable to help the little dopey grin that was starting to tug his lips.  “I think it’s awesome you used to play, I just - I didn’t know? It surprised me, I guess. You’ve never wanted to play any of the video games I have here, you never seemed interested.”

Victor made another humming sound, this one a bit more discontented, and gave the stew one more good stir so he could set the spoon aside.  “I enjoyed World of Warcraft because it let me interact with other people,” he said quietly, still watching the pot as it simmered. “No one knew who I was.  Your games - they look fun, but I like watching you play them more than I would enjoy playing them myself.”

“Oh.”

Though Yuuri didn’t say so often, those are some of his favorite evenings.  Yuuri preferred to sit on the floor when he played, leaning back against the couch, and Victor was always right behind him, close enough to lean down and kiss the top of his head - which he did frequently.  Sometimes Victor would have a book or notes from practice, or he would just snuggle up in a blanket with his tea and extra pillows, but he was always, always there. Yuuri offered a few times in the beginning to let Victor play with him, but he always declined; these quiet nights in became their gaming evenings instead, simply spending time together.

After a moment of silence in which Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say, Victor came around to sit on the couch.  “I started playing when I was seventeen, I think. I was lonely and wanted the company of people who did not know my name, and it was easy to get lost there.  Those strangers became friends for a short while when everyone else only cared about my career.” He twined their fingers together, staring down at them on the cushion in the small distance between their thighs.  “I think maybe one person in my guild had a tiny inkling I was a professional athlete, because of how strict my schedule was - an inkling I avoided.”

“You never talked about it in public,” Yuuri chuckled, dropping his head to Victor’s shoulder and snuggling closer.

“And spoil the little dream world of anonymity I had created?  No, never. Though,” he added as an afterthought, “that must be why you never knew.  It was not in an interview anywhere for baby Yuuri to read from afar.”

“Oh my god, _stop_.”

Yuuri tried to pull away to smack him playfully on the chest, but Victor just laughed and wrapped him tight in his arms instead, rocking the hug back and forth a few times.  Yuuri, for his part, gave in quickly and let himself be coddled and held. He didn’t exactly _mind_ , even if it was coming just now at the expense of their dinner.  Victor seemed to have the same thought and, after another few seconds of keeping Yuuri close, he pressed a kiss to his forehead and released him.

“So,” Yuuri hedged, curious now when Victor slowly made his way back to the stovetop after two more sweet kisses as the toll to pass by.  “If you started playing when you were seventeen - that was the original game, right?”

The spoon plunged back into the pot and scraped the few stuck bits from the bottom.  Victor nodded at his question and then, getting the idea of where Yuuri was trying to go, sent him a sly look.  “Why husband, are you attempting to pry out sordid details of my past? Every salacious spell learned or talent tree plundered, each adventurous quest completed or, even -” and here he paused to raise a fine silver eyebrow before continuing, “every villainous end-game boss I have defeated?”

If those words turned Yuuri on until he was practically vibrating with it - well, he _could not help it_ , not now that he knew Victor was a gamer like he was, that he understood the world Yuuri adored even if he no longer played in it himself.  It all made sense now, those times Victor helped Yuuri find his way through a difficult section of a strategy game, or when he gave him gentle advice on where to use talent points, or the enthusiasm he had over cutscenes at the end of a quest when Yuuri would skip them instead.  That was not Victor _humoring_ him, humoring his hobby.  

With an indignant huff when nothing else was forthcoming Yuuri leapt to his knees and stood on them, facing over the back of the couch to see Victor properly as he oh-so-calmly stirred the stew, Makkachin waiting patiently for scraps he never dropped.  

“Vitya!  You have to tell me everything, now that you’ve said it like that!”

“Well,” Victor said, words far too amused now that his story had been sussed out.  “You have heard of Arthas, haven’t you? Nefarian and Molten Core? Ahn’Qiraj, perhaps, or Karazhan?  The giant fiery dragon of death whose name escapes me? Now,” and the subject changed completely with the tone of his voice, “help me set the table, dinner is ready!  I will tell all later, as we eat. I made a tiramisu for dessert.”

Yuuri watched with his mouth agape as Victor turned, cool as a cucumber, to gather flatware and dishes for the table.  While he had never played World of Warcraft himself, Yuuri knew those names, he knew those places, and he knew what it meant that Victor had seen them.  It set Yuuri’s nerd brain on _fire_ to hear these things.  

But Victor was ignoring him now, cooing to Makkachin in Russian as he set the table and ignored, also, the inelegant gasping sounds Yuuri made as he clambered over the sofa to help.  Or, at least, rush the process along.

“ _Victor_!”

No response outside of the poodle-cooing.

“Come on, at least tell me what class you played!”    


End file.
